


All That is Mortal

by talesofmaehem



Category: The Infernal Devices, The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Other, Parabatai, Parabatai Bond, Silent Brothers - Freeform, Yin Fen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofmaehem/pseuds/talesofmaehem
Summary: "The good suffer, the evil flourish, and all that is mortal passes away."Jem is dying, but maybe he doesn't have to.(WARNING: CLOCKWORK PRINCESS SPOILERS)





	1. Dream of Life

The quiet _snick_ of the closing door echoed in the silence.

He could still feel the phantom pressure of his parabatai’s hands over his own.

_Will._

His image floats before Jem’s eyes; his rumpled clothes, his hunched shoulders, the desperation and hope, the undying affection in his eyes. He heard the words of the blessing fall again from his parabatai’s lips: _Atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale._ He remembered the hollowness in Will’s voice, the raw loss that lay underneath it. It was odd, he thought, to have heard the words meant for his corpse, to catch a glimpse of what the world would look like, sound like, after he was gone from it.

And of course, there was the one thought his mind kept circling back to.

_Will is in love with Tessa._

The realization was still crashing over him. At first he had questioned it, but the expression on Will’s face did not allow him to doubt for long. _Guilt. Despair. Love._ All painted across his parabatai’s face. So much love. Not just for Tessa, but for Jem also. He had wondered at it. He had always known Will was better than he allowed himself to appear, but even Jem had not realized how much Will was truly capable of feeling. He could see now how Will’s feelings were agonizing him and Jem shared that agony. How could he have not noticed? The thought of Will’s pain, the cost of his own happiness, grieved him. If he had known, perhaps he could have spared them all this agony. He would have given up Tessa, denied his own happiness, if he had thought they could have been happy together. They were both so full of life and Jem knew he was fading. They would both need someone to comfort them, and who better than one another?

Tessa, he was certain, would come to love Will. How could she not? He had seen the way girls looked at Will, had heard the disapproving whispers of matrons commenting on Will’s angelic looks and devilish reputation. But Tessa, he was certain, had caught glimpses of the real Will and the real Will was easy to love. He thought of their midnight excursion to Whitechapel. Her pale figure in his room, showing him Magnus’s letter in the moonlight. The way her mouth had turned down at the corners, the lines of her face creased with worry. Their closeness as the carriage rattled down twisting, darkened streets. The sickening smell of the ifrit den, too familiar for comfort. And Will, lying disheveled in that filthy bunk, his eyes glazed with the stupor of faerie drugs. Tessa’s serious grey eyes floated before his mind’s eye, how sad and disappointed they’d looked at finding Will there, but also how they’d shimmered with relief.

Yes, surely she would come to love him.

And Will had gone after her. He would have gone, even if he had not loved her, because Jem had asked him to. That was what it meant to be parabatai. To do what the other could not. For so long it had been Jem loving Will when he knew his parabatai could not love himself. Having faith in him and forgiving him when Will had thought himself cursed. Now it was Will’s turn. Jem did not trust anyone else to bring Tessa home. It was only Will he could rely on. Will, who he had always relied on. He trusted him with his life and now, with his death also.

When Will had said Tessa did not love him, for a moment Jem had felt incredible relief. He had feared, not for the first time, that perhaps she was marrying him out of guilt or pity. After all, it was obvious he did not have long to live and he was sure his happiness at the return of her affection shone through every modicum of his being. Perhaps she could not bear to disappoint him. Other memories flooded in then: her tears at his music; her hands caressing his skin; the sound of his name on her lips; Will’s broken voice saying _It is you she loves_. All these things contradicted his despair, which only brought a new despair upon him. It was a two-fold despair that cut like a double-edged sword; he had brought pain on his parabatai and he did not think he would live long enough to see it righted.

Will had been reluctant- angry and scared- when Jem had made him promise. Promise to be his eyes when he could no longer see, his hands when he could no longer lift his own, his heart when his had ceased with beating. Will had argued, refusing to acknowledge Jem’s death- but death, Jem knew, was not so easily denied.

Jem closed his eyes, weary.

The scene replayed against his closed eyelids.

_“You are my parabatai. You have said I could ask anything of you.”_

_The wild look in Will’s eyes. The fierce grip of his hands over Jem’s._

_“I cannot leave you to face death alone.”_

_The way Will’s voice had broken. The effort it had cost him to raise his hand to his parabatai rune._

_“I am not alone. Wherever we are, we are as one.”_

_The flash of understanding in Will’s eyes. The knowledge that they would have shared this bond even if parabatai had never existed and no rune been created to bind them together._

_Jem’s final words to his parabatai echoed in his head._

_“Find her, Will, and tell her that I loved her always. My blessing, for all that it is worth, is on you both.”_

_The finality with which their eyes met and held. The feeling of Will’s hand tightening and then slipping through his own. Will’s rigid posture and determined set to his shoulders as he walked through the door._

_The resounding silence afterwards._

 

The words and images faded. For a moment he allowed himself to focus only on the rise and fall of his chest and the too-weak flutter of his moth-like heart. _I will never see him in this life again._ The thought is too much to bear. He tried to keep up a brave face for the others, knew that his suffering brought them pain, but he allowed himself this brief moment of grief. Two tears slipped past his closed eyelids. He wiped them away. He had long ago faced the reality of his own mortality, accepted that the time he had been given in this life would always be shorter than he would like. He took a shuddering breath. He had always believed what he told Will; _The world is a wheel. When we rise or fall, we do it together._ His soul would meet Will’s again. Tessa appeared before him then, all serious grey eyes and soft brown hair, her voice saying, _But you will not see me again,_ and his own reply, _I see you now._

Tessa. He regretted that he would not get to see her again, to hold her one last time. He would never see her in her wedding dress, never know her as Theresa Carstairs, his wife. He had few regrets, but the life he would miss with Tessa was one of them.

He felt himself spinning into darkness, a swirl of images, fever dreams and memories, pulling him down.

London burning, great metallic creatures piercing through the smoke. Will’s blue gaze meeting his across twin rings of fire. Parchment colored robes. Tessa’s voice asking if he had considered alternative options for extending his life. His mother’s face smiling down at him as she tucked him into bed. The sound of his father playing the violin. Their screams as he was tortured. The cool, deft hands of the Silent Brothers as they searched for a cure when the yin fen had first burned through his veins.

_Will is in love with Tessa._

They could be happy together. He is sure of it.

There is only one way he will see her again.

It is a desperate hope. He knows he is not strong, has talked to the Silent Brothers about the risks on more than one occasion. The thought of severing himself from Will is enough to break his heart. _If aught but death part thee and me…_ He swore an oath. He sees Will’s face then, that day in the training room, when he first agreed to train with Jem and the days and years after. Will laughing as they race down the grey London streets. Will grasping his hand in pain as Brother Enoch pulls shards of metal from Will’s back. Will, weary-eyed sitting in the armchair by Jem’s bed. Will, who he knew would always rather be apart and know Jem was alive then be apart and have to bear the grief of Jem’s death.

It is a desperate hope.

But it’s all he has.


	2. Aught but Death

He is dying.

He’d been dying for years but now he felt like it. Truly felt like it. Ever since Will had left the Institute he’d felt a tightness in his chest, like a cord pulled taut across the distance between them. Now, that same cord felt like it was stretched to its limits. Fraying. His breath rattled in his lungs. His whole body shook as he coughed and blood splattered his white shirt sleeves. A cool hand braced his shoulders. Brother Enoch. For a moment Jem let his eyes close and pretend it was Will’s hand, then Charlotte’s.

Charlotte.

She had been heartbroken when Jem had asked them to stop looking for a cure, when he had told her of his decision. She had put on a brave face for Jem though and told the others of his plan. He had explained to Charlotte what the Silent Brothers had told him; that the odds of success were not likely and even if, by some miracle, he survived- as a Silent Brother he would be barred from participating in their lives.

Either way, the life he had lived up to this point would end today.

 

He didn’t want to think of his deathbed. Didn’t want to remember the way Sophie’s eyes had been red from crying and Gideon’s filled with pity as they’d come to say their goodbyes. He didn’t want to relive Henry’s shattered expression and fumbled attempt at words. Mostly, he didn’t want to think of the way Charlotte had fussed over the blankets as the Silent Brothers had shuffled Jem onto a stretcher, or the way she had brushed his hair from his face and whispered “Jemmie” just before they lifted it and carried him from the room. He’d held onto consciousness for her, for all of them, and as a bitter reward the last thing he saw as they loaded him into the carriage was Charlotte and Henry on the front steps of the Institute. Just as they closed the carriage door, Jem caught sight of Charlotte’s face crumpling and she collapsed into Henry, who stroked her back looking like he hadn’t an idea in the world how to comfort her.

No, he didn’t want to think on any of that.

Instead he chose to remember the love and strength in Charlotte’s voice as she gave him the blessing: _Ave atque vale James Carstairs. Hail and farewell._ He remembered the ecstatic expression Henry wore when he got an idea for a new invention, Will’s laughter as they lay by the fire as boys, and the night he first met Tessa. With his eyes closed, if he didn’t think too hard, Brother Enoch’s hands could be Tessa’s or Charlotte’s or Will’s. For a moment, he simply floated in memories of the life he’d lived at the Institute and the family he’d found there.

For a moment, he thought maybe he should have died there, surrounded by those he loved.

Only…that wasn’t quite right. Yes, Charlotte and Henry were there, but Jessie was dead and Tessa had been kidnapped and Will gone in search of her.

No, at the Institute he was only a distraction from the safety of those he loved.

It was better this way.

 

The carriage rattled across slick cobblestones as another coughing spell overtook him. He opened his eyes as he choked on blood and his limbs spasmed. Air refused to enter his lungs and he felt a veil of panic come over him. He wheezed and coughed and surely it was a bad sign that much blood was present? It had a silvery sheen to it, like oil on water, and the sight of it made him want to throw up. Another Silent Brother ( _Brother Micah,_ Jem thought distantly as he gasped for air) reached into the folds of his sleeve and brandished a handkerchief, proceeding to wipe at Jem’s bloodied mouth. Jem was so stunned that he would have laughed if he’d been able to breathe. He immediately thought of Will and how he would have made a joke about what else Silent Brother’s keep up their sleeves. The thought of Will both comforted and saddened him.

His lungs reluctantly chose to expand and Jem gulped down a lungful of air. Brother Micah shifted away, taking the bloodied handkerchief with him.

Once he got his breath back, Jem turned to the figure beside him.

“Brother Enoch?”

_Yes?_

The voice echoed in his mind, distant and ageless. He wondered, briefly, if he would sound like that if he survived the transformation.

“Did you…have…a parabatai?” Jem asked between labored breaths

A moment passed.

_No. That was not the path that was set for me._

Jem was debating whether it was rude to ask what he meant when a new voice echoed through the carriage.

_I did._

The new voice held the same remoteness to it, but it was softer somehow, like it was weighed with sorrow.

Brother Micah.

“What happened?”

As the silence stretches out, Jem thinks he won’t answer. It probably hadn’t been a terribly considerate question. He had just resigned himself to suffering in silence when Brother Micah responds.

_She died…and because I could not bear it I became a Silent Brother._

Jem nodded. It was not uncommon for those who had lost their parabatai to join the Brotherhood and continue serving the Nephilim in that way. Feebly, he reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it aside, revealing the parabatai mark on his shoulder. It is stark and black against his pale skin. He remembered the moment Will had burned it there, the feeling of inevitability, the sense of rightness that followed.

“If aught but death-”

He spasms again, his whole body convulsing uncontrollably. The Brothers hold him until it passes, and although Jem hadn’t finished his question Brother Micah responds anyway.

_Your souls have been knit together. The words of the oath only give shape to the bond of parabatai, James Carstairs, they do not define it. William Herondale loves you as his own soul, he would want for you whatever you want for yourself. Choosing life is not a betrayal._

Jem doesn’t have the strength to nod, but he lets the words soak into his weakly beating heart. He _had_ felt as though he was betraying Will, but until he knew Will and Tessa were safe he couldn’t leave them. Not yet.

He felt another spasm convulse his limbs and a wave of darkness surge over him. He fought against it, drifted through brief moments of clarity, relived memories stained with shadow, until he couldn’t remember which was real and allowed himself to drift into unconsciousness.

 

*                 *                *                    *                   *                   *                      *                      *                       *                      *                     *                    

 

When Jem wakes, he is on a cold stone slab surrounded by the Silent Brothers. For a disorienting moment, he thinks he is still dreaming until Brother Enoch rests a hand on his shoulder.

_The yin fen is nearly purged from your system. We will wait as long as possible before applying the runes of Brotherhood, starting with that which will prolong your life._

If Brother Enoch had eyes, Jem is sure they would be burning into him.

_You should know that this process isn’t an easy one in the best of circumstances._

Jem swallows roughly against his dry throat. His lips are cracked and his mouth tastes like blood.

He’d never realized how much effort it takes just to breathe. Every one of his muscles screams at this previously innocuous endeavor.

His body is trembling and he can’t tell whether its from the seizures or withdrawal from the yin fen. Possibly both.

_You must remain conscious to accept the runes of Brotherhood._

Jem nods weakly and instantly regrets it. His head pounds like opposing war drums beat inside of it. He hasn’t felt pain like this since Yanlo tortured him.

The cord in his chest is pulled tight and he wonders where Will is, whether he’s reached Tessa yet. The thought of Will and Tessa distract him for a moment from the shaking of his limbs and the pounding in his head.

He will see them again.

Jem grits his teeth in pain as his body convulses anew. Darkness tinges the edges of his vision.

He thinks of Will and Tessa, Charlotte and Henry.

He will see them again.

The cord in his chest pulls impossibly tighter and he feels the final strings begin to fray.

He’s dying.

His vision is spotty now and he struggles just to hold on to the edges of consciousness.

Brother Enoch’s voice sounds distorted and far away. Jem sees him holding a silver ritual knife with a bone handle, both of which are etched with scarlet runes, before his vision fades to a blinding white.

There is a vague rushing sound in his head but Brother Enoch’s voice cuts through it, now as clear and strong as a mountain stream.

_James Carstairs, do you agree to sever your ties to the mortal world and accept the runes of Brotherhood?_

Jem has stopped shaking and now his muscles tremble gently only with the exertion of living. His breath wheezes in and out of his chest, but he forces himself to speak.

He will see them again.

“I do,” he rasps.

For a moment the cord in his chest seems to ease, as though reassuring him that he will be reunited with his parabatai.

 

Then Brother Enoch brings the knife to Jem’s cheek.

 

Jem didn’t think he had the energy to scream or the ability to feel more pain, but he finds he is capable of both.

He lets out an agonized cry as Brother Enoch carves the first rune, his hand flying to his shoulder as the cord tying him to Will snaps.

The pain is unbearable. It is as though he is experiencing every emotion he has ever felt in his brief seventeen years all at once and overshadowing it all is an immense sense of loss and grief.

As soon as Brother Enoch steps away, Jem turns to examine his shoulder. His hand is slick with blood where it presses against his parabatai rune but something else is wrong. The rune is fading, turning from solid black to pale silver, as all marks did when they were expended. But parabatai runes were meant to last for life…the realization strikes Jem like a blow. He survived, but the life he knew is gone from him forever.

 

His chest rises and falls easily now, but where once there was a cord tying him to Will there is now only a coil of grief.

Jem closes his eyes, fighting back the sob that is clawing at his throat. _Forgive me, Will_.

Brother Enoch approaches his other side, the knife still in hand.

_Are you prepared for the second rune?_

Jem rests his hand back over his parabatai rune. _Wherever we are, we are as one._

He will see them again.

His throat is raw, his voice anguished, but he pushes the words out all the same.

“I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all characters belong to Cassandra Clare.
> 
> Also a lot of the dialogue is quoted directly from Clockwork Princess.
> 
> Titles from the poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley and work of Cassandra Clare


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